Home > Pixie's Passion (Moonlight and Magic #4)

Pixie's Passion (Moonlight and Magic #4)
Author: Mina Carter

Chapter One

"Not a cat in hell's chance."

Cy folded his heavily tattooed arms and looked around the office with a mulish glare. It was a small room anyway but crammed full of the Moonlight & Magic security staff, one of them nearly seven feet of Gargoyle, it seemed even smaller.

"C'mon Cy...you're our only hope," Myst pleaded, waggling the scrap of red satin on the end of her finger. Cy's eyebrow crawled further up his forehead. Myst's look was calculating as she held the article, a red satin thong, out to Tiny next to her. "Or I could always get the guys to pin you down whilst we put this on."

The demon recoiled, a look of disgust on his handsome face. "I'm not going near anything that's going in the crack of his ass!"

Cy chuckled, "Good luck with that sweetheart. I don't think they're that interested. Why me anyway? I'm not even on the security team and I thought this gig was up to you."

Myst was still glaring at Tiny. "Yeah, it normally is. But with half this lot..." she jerked her thumb around the room. "...bloody loved up, Darius over there batting for the other team and the rest of us being of the female persuasion, we're looking at other options. Namely you."

Tiny and Knuckles looked sheepish at Myst's blunt statement but the whole club knew they were both newly mated. Tiny's wife, Cassia, was the first and only vampire allowed into the club. Well, the only vampire allowed both in and out of the club with her head still attached. Whereas Knuckle's mate Neri was just the sweetest human any of the staff had ever seen and to say the large gargoyle was besotted with her was an understatement.

"I see your point."

Cy put his stubborn face on. Myst thought she was a stubborn bitch but Cy was a pixie born and bred. The day-glo hair was gone, cut and dyed into a short black crop, but he still had the balls and the tattoo's to prove it, the latter stretching from his knuckles all the way up to his shoulders.

To most people they just looked like random swirls and marks but to another pixie they told Cy's life story. Who he was, who his parents had been, what battles he'd fought against which other clans and, if he'd ever been married, then they would have noted who to. Mostly tellingly of all though, the spot on his wrists where his clan name should be was blanked out. Tattooed over completely black so the name couldn't be read.

Cy folded his arms. "Still not doing it."

"Christmas day. Our place," Tiny offered, "Neri'd love to have more mouths to feed."

Cy groaned. That was just going for the throat. Cy didn't have a family. Not now.

He used to have a family, but now his clan was gone. Wiped out. It's name erased from pixie memory forever thanks to the actions of one man. Thanks to one man he was homeless, condemned to wander and never find rest, never know the peace and comfort of family again. He was dishonoured. A man without a clan and, for a pixie warrior, that meant no other clan would accept him.

They were like sharks scenting blood. Tiny chipped in. "Cass makes fantastic mince pies, we could make a day of it. Shall we say eleven o'clock?"

Cy's eyes darted around the room. The temptation was overwhelming. A family Christmas...He thought back to his apartment. Little more than a single room with a bathroom on the side, kitchenette in the corner and his futon/bed in the other, it wasn't the most appealing of places. One reason he spent every waking hour he could at the club, either doing odd jobs or using the gym in the basement. And, over six foot of solid muscle anyway, he'd just put muscle on the muscle.

"Bastards," he muttered. They knew his weakness. They all knew his weakness.

"Okay, what do I have to do?"

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Northfield Hospital's Christmas Auction. As you can see we have some delectable dates up for auction tonight, all of them very kindly provided by local businesses. All proceeds this year are going to the neo-natal unit..." Teresa zoned the rest of the opening speech out as she rooted in her purse for her cellphone. Flicking it open she scanned for new messages and breathed a sigh of relief.

No news was good news. It meant the babysitter was coping with her two monsters.

"...the owner of Mackenzie Plasma Products, Mr Mackenzie is offering to whisk the lucky lady who wins his date off on a luxury evening which will include dinner and dancing on his sumptuous yacht, the Lady Jane..."

"Oh my god...would you look at that!" Joanie, Teresa's co-worker and partner in crime, hooted as a man stepped out from the wings and started down the runway.

Suave and sophisticated in a classic tuxedo he had the sort of dark good looks that wouldn't look out of place in a Bond movie.

"The name's Mac, Big Mac."

Joanie fell about giggling at her own joke as Mackenzie strutted his stuff on the catwalk. Teresa had to admit, he was good looking. But his brand of slick good looks left her cold. Too like Mario, her ex husband and the bane of her life. He'd been a charmer too and had had her convinced she was his one and only.

It wasn't until the car accident that had taken his life that she'd found out she was one of many. That the wedding vows Mario had taken he'd said so often he should have been word perfect, usually without the little matter of a divorce in between, and that a wife back in Italy ensured that neither she nor their two children were entitled to any of the De Luca fortune.

"You, are drunk. Already."

The bidding was fast and furious as Teresa shook her head at her friend's giggling. Joan couldn't hold her alcohol. Just one drink, especially the complimentary champagne on their table, and she was anyone's.

"Yup! And you should be too! To the good Mr. Mackenzie and his gorgeous ass!"

Joanie's catcall dropped right into a lull in the noise, her comment clearly heard throughout the room. Including the good Mr. Mackenzie himself who turned and winked right at her.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, he heard me," Joanie squeaked and disappeared under the table as everyone in the room looked their way. Mortification burned across Teresa's cheeks as she thrust her hand under the tablecloth and tried to grab hold of Joan.

"Get your ass up here girl, everyone's looking at me," she hissed as her cheeks glowed neon. At least, if the lights in here went out, they'd still be able to see.

Joanie slapped her hands away, stopping her friend from hauling her back up to face all the people staring at them. People who were all grinning at Teresa, obviously thinking she'd been the one to make the ass comment.

"Girl, you are so dead when you come out from under there."

"Well, we know Mackenzie has one dead cert in the room," the auctioneer laughed and moved smoothly on. "Okay, next up is the listing from paranormal club Moonlight & Magic. Waiter Cy is a bad boy looking for the right woman to tame him, if only for one night...Christmas eve. So, for all the lovely ladies in the audience...here's one Christmas present you won't forget!"

The next figure to step out from the wings onto the catwalk stole Teresa's breath right out from her lungs. He was tall and stripped bare to the waist. All the better to see the tattoo's that covered his arms right down to the fingers hooked into the loops of jeans that rode low on his hips.

He stood in the middle of the stage for a moment, his attitude pure arrogance as he looked around the room. The lights had to be blinding him but still he looked, ice blue eyes sweeping across the crowded tables. A collective feminine sigh whispered around the room and even Teresa's traitorous body sat up and took notice. She didn't want it to, she was done with men. So done after Mario that if she'd found other women in the least attractive she'd have given up on men completely. But there was something about this guys defiant stance that sent a shiver down her spine.

His head turned and he looked straight at her. Teresa's breath caught as his blue eyes burned into hers. He couldn't possibly see her, could he? No, there was no way he could, not with all the lights trained on the catwalk. It was just a trick of the light.

"What's going on?" Joanie whispered, loudly, from under the table. More of a shout than a whisper really. Teresa didn't answer, struck dumb as Cy sauntered down the catwalk, his eyes still firmly on hers. The lights shimmered lovingly across perfect muscles, the six pack stomach flexing as he walked.

"Heeeeello...need info down here!"

Joan's hand emerged from under the table and waved at Teresa. Who totally ignored it as Cy reached the end of the catwalk. Instead of doing a little pose like the rest he ran a hand over his toned stomach and slid it down towards his groin. His eyes twinkled as his lips curved in a suggestive smile.

Teresa fanned herself with her program, her eyes not leaving the stage in front of her or the man stood on it. Had the temperature in here just jumped twenty degrees?

They really needed to turn the air-conditioning up.

With a lazy flick of his fingers he popped the first, then the second button on his jeans...just enough to tell he wasn't wearing underwear. Then he blew a kiss at her.

Teresa's heart stopped. Joan's frantic waving by her side didn't register as Cy stalked back up the catwalk and disappeared.

"What happened? What did I miss?" Joanie demanded as she pulled herself from under the table on Teresa's arm.

"And congratulations to the lady in red on table five. One of our hostesses will be along shortly to collect your details for your date with our delectable waiter Cy."

Table five.

They were table five.

Suddenly the grins Teresa was getting from the other people seated around the table made sense. An awful feeling crept over her as she glanced down at her red top, then round the table at the other women's clothing.

"Shit, I think you just won me a date."

Chapter Two

Christmas eve. He couldn't believe he was on a blind bloody date on Christmas eve.

Cy pulled up outside the small suburban house and left the car engine running.

Rooting in his jeans pocket he pulled out a scrap of paper and checked the name and address written on it. Ducking down he checked the number on the side of the house through the windscreen.

Yup, number seventeen. It was hard to spot half-hidden behind the illuminated snowman but it was definitely the right house.

Cy sat back in the drivers seat, his tattooed hand rested on the steering wheel, and let the engine idle as he looked at the place. Classic suburbia. Beige house, white picket fence, sensible sedan parked in the drive. No doubt owned by Mr. and Mrs.

Average with two point four kids. Kids who'd be hyped up on the Christmas spirit already if the bright decorations in the garden and on the front of the house were any indication.

Cy sighed as he cut the engine and unfolded himself from the sleek sports car. It was his luxury, his little gift to himself and the only thing he bothered to spend money on. Why bother on anything else? His apartment he spent as little time in as possible and the club provided a uniform so he didn't need to bother with clothes. Okay, so maybe the sheer t-shirt was stretching 'clothing' a little bit. He flicked the central locking on and strode up the path towards the house. Better get this over with and thrill Mrs. Average who'd won a date with the bad boy he was supposed to be.

He knocked on the porch door, looking down and noticing the three sets of wellington boots set in a row just inside the screen to dry. A adult pair, female sized by the looks of them and two smaller pairs, one tiny pair in pink and a slightly larger pair with a cartoon hero emblazoned on the side.

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